


REALLY real

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Camping, Competition, Cooking, Dorks in Love, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Hotels, Humor, Kissing, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, Love Confessions, Making Out, Male-Female Friendship, Office Sex, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Fluff, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sexual Tension, Sparring, Sweat, Talking, Teasing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering, Woman on Top, Wrestling, Xenophobia, workaholics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:23:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9774314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: Daisy and Coulson spar for real.  Based on 4x14.





	1. Round 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson have a rematch.

"How's that for real?"

He lands on his backside first, then hits the mat to roll with it.

She's grinning down at him, so smug, and he might say that he's going to end up regretting his challenge to her.

_Nah._

"Do you need a few seconds?" she taunts him, turning her back to him, an obvious attempt to draw him in.

He's learned a lot in his many years practicing and doing this in the field.

Maneuvering to his feet, he takes up his fighting stance again.

"I hope you set aside some _me time_ today. Because, I'm gonna wear you out."

"Really?" she asks, with a raise of her eyebrow.

She gives a little feint at him, as he sidesteps it, then she tests him again, going lower.

"Because you don't give up, right?"

Her fist contacts his shoulder, knocking him back a few steps.

Ouch. She packs quite a wallop. Can't let her get too many of those in.

He has a point to prove, not end up black and blue.

When she drops her arms a little, he goes in, not to make contact but to get around behind her first.

He can feel her watching him more than reacting, then moving before he can lock her arms behind her back.

"You're not using your powers, are you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. Daisy can tell when you walk into a room, after all.

"Nope," she answers, popping her lips, and kicking out a leg at him sharp and fast so that he goes down to the mat again.

"I don't think I'd _ever_ need my powers for this," she grins.

Oh, she is asking for it.

Before he's to his feet, he swings his foot towards her calf, then kicks back when she tries to step away, tripping her other leg up and forcing her to the mat.

He tries to get on her before she can roll away, but he can't and then they're both on their knees, crouched opposite of each other.

" _Sneaky_ ," she breathes out.

He feels the bead of sweat starting to form on his forehead, and feels it trickle down his nose and drops to the mat.

"I can almost smell the sweat," she teases, before they both hop to their feet and try to get their hands on the other first.

She twists around and beside him, and they change positions a few times, but eventually she gets his arm locked, and he goes down to his knees again.

The unpleasant reality that he might have to hurt himself a bit to get out of this is looming.

But then she lets go of his arm and lightly pushes him away.

"Are you toying with me?" he asks her over his shoulder. "That's insulting."

"We're sparring, I'm not trying to hurt you."

"That's nice," he smiles at her innocently, then rolls at her and grabs her by the knee, trying to tackle her down to the mat.

She brings that knee up lighting quick, and it gets him in the stomach, as he doubles over.

 _Exaggerating._ He's learned a few things, after all.

"Oh, shit, Coulson!" she scrambles down next to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Phil, I'm so sorry. I didn't. I didn't get you in-"

He groans loudly, otherwise he'll give it away by laughing.

"In your man parts?" she finishes.

Then he launches at her, pushing her back by her shoulders, throwing his weight down on top of her.

She wrestles under him, and she was definitely right: How is this for real?

He doesn't want to lose his competitive edge here, but she's so strong and soft at the same time.

And he can smell her shampoo and how her sweat is different from his, and maybe now is the moment that he's starting to regret this.

His hands are around her wrists, and she stops struggling underneath him, her hair wild in her face, as she tries to puff it away with a breath.

"You cheated," she says, followed with a grunt.

"No, you're a sucker."

He means to say it cocky, smug like she did earlier. But it doesn't come out that way, and his eyes can't stop looking at the way her hair is moving over her mouth every time she breathes out.

What if he's the sucker? Why did he ask her to do this? What was he thinking?

_She'll find out._

So, he lets off her instead, rolling to the side, and raising his leg up and drawing his arm to balance over it. Hiding.

Pushing the hair off her face with her fingers, she gives him a curious look.

It almost seems like disappointment, but he doesn't want to fool himself here.

"That's it? You're giving up?" she asks.

"I cheated," he swallows, and then tries to smile it away. "You said so yourself."

He's completely caught off guard when she tackles him, hard, knocking him to his side and then pins him under her, he can see her muscles straining to hold him down.

"I don't enjoy beating you," she rasps out between breaths. "But if I do, I want it to be fair."

He grits his teeth and tries to muscle his way out from under her, locking eyes with her as a drop of sweat falls from her chin and splashes on his face.

His hips buck up against hers, almost involuntarily, and she has to know at this point.

She grunts and checks him against the mat with her own and he makes an audible noise, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

His eyes shut tightly, but he can hear her breathing, feel every single place their bodies are connected.

There's no easy way out of this.

Another drop of sweat splashes on him, and his tongue darts out without thinking and then he tastes her.

His whole body goes slack, and she doesn't move away. He turns his face so that at least when he opens his eyes, he won't be staring right at her.

That's when he feels tickle of hair on his cheek, her mouth on his neck. Gentle, like she's testing whether she's allowed to do this.

He practically groans out her name, as she swipes her tongue along his artery, and then uses teeth.

She draws her fingers along his face and turns him back to look at her and he opens his eyes.

Daisy is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

He's seen a lot of beautiful things. _Unbelievable_ things.

And none of them compare.

He's not sure who kisses first this time, only that it's shared, and something that they both want, without question.

The feeling of being caught lifts off of him, replaced with desire, with raw feelings he's held back. He's only just now realizing the extent of it.

They're sharing this connection, and it's realest thing he's ever felt.

Her hand slips up under his t-shirt, as she pushes her tongue into his mouth, and her hand splays against his stomach, starting to move lower when he catches her wrist.

"We're not finished here," he tells her, cocky, the corner of his mouth catching.

"It's okay," she says, smiling and then drawing her bottom lip into her mouth. "You won this round."

She gets up and then he follows. They both glance around the gym for a moment, to see if they've been watched.

She toys with her hair a little, hiding behind it, as he tugs at the front of his t-shirt, and steps close to her, waiting until her eyes lift to meet his.

"Where should we have Round Two?"

Her smile spreads widely, and she reaches out and touches her fingers to his arm, lightly drawing them down to his wrist.

Then she turns from him, walking out of the gym into the corridor.

He waits a few moments, smile plastered over his face.

And follows after her.


	2. Round 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coulson meets Daisy in her room after sparring.

The door has been left slightly ajar.

He tries to not make it obvious, but he looks both ways down the corridor to see that it's empty before he pushes it open with his fingertips.

Once he's inside, he makes a quick scan of the room and then clicks the door closed behind him.

Then sets the lock.

There are a lot of things running through his mind right now. It's hard to just stay focused on what's in front of him, when she's not in front of him.

She left for six months.

He thought that was it.

All he could do was try to help her in some way, or be there before someone else worse was, or if she ever came back.

She came back.

And he knows that she missed him, but, apparently she missed him more than he realized.

The sound of running water is now accompanied by steam wafting out of the bathroom door.

He thinks about his age, and his scars, the fact that he's tried to be so many things to her, but never this.

He thinks about loss, and the price of having things like this. Maybe that he's avoided it for that reason.

Then he hears the water shut off, and thinks about the possibility of missing this chance.

Opening the door all the way, he sees Daisy, wrapped in a towel, dipping her toe into the bathtub.

"Hot," she hisses under her breath.

He looks at the size of the tub, and then at her body and his own.

"We worked up a sweat," she tells him, moving closer to him. "I thought that we could. You know-"

"I take baths," he assures her, very seriously, and pulls his sweaty t-shirt up over his head.

Her eyes land on his scar for a moment, as he tosses the shirt aside, and then she drops the towel off of her body.

Since he forgets to do anything but gaze at her, she moves closer and pulls on the string of his sweatpants.

He's at a total loss for words. She's breathtaking and all he can think about is how much pleasure he wants to give her.

But clearly, she's wanting to take her time and he suddenly realizes that she has his sweats around his ankles and she's untying his tennis shoes.

"Double knots? You're such a dork," she says, shaking her head.

The shoes and clothes get tossed out of the bathroom, somewhere vaguely near the vicinity of her bed.

Completely naked in front of her, and hard, her hand wraps around his cock and she presses her body against his, pushing up on her toes to kiss him.

"I guessed as much."

She gives him a stroke and he groans into her mouth, unable to form words.

"You're a pretty cocky guy."

"Huh," he manages to puff out. She must like the size of him, he feels kind of proud about it suddenly.

His hands get more confident, and he touches her body, kisses her in return, but lets his hands roam over her back, and the curve where it dips to her ass, squeezing her with both hands when she slips her tongue into his mouth.

She uses a hand to guide his up to her breast, using both their fingers, drawing the tips over her nipple, as he hears her suck in a sharp breath.

This is absolutely going to have to be about her pleasure, because his is going to be near-instantaneous.

The bath is now sounding like a very good idea.

He links their fingers together and steps towards the tub, putting a foot in.

It's still a little hot, but he can probably bear it.

Working his way down inside, he makes room for her between his knees and she fits herself there, then leans back against his chest.

The water is almost up to the brim of the tub with the two of them displacing it, and starts pouring into the overflow drain.

She cups some of it in her hand and then draws it over one of his knees, plastering the hair on his leg to the skin, smiling privately, like there's something else she's thinking about.

"I've never seen your legs before," she offers, turning a little over her shoulder.

"No, I guess you haven't," he answers, and peers at her, and then brushes his fingers along the skin of her bare back.

"Here." She reaches forward then hands him back a container of shower gel. "You can have the honors."

He opens it and the smell reminds him instantly of when they were sparring earlier, of the way she felt so strong and soft underneath him.

Honey and wild flowers. He'll never forget this smell.

Pouring some into his hand, he lathers it, then rubs it along her shoulders, her arms, stopping to lift her hair, touch the nape of her neck as she sighs and tips her head down.

Then he cups his hand to rinse it all off, opens it when she takes his wrist and pours more gel into it, then closes hers over his, pressing them both against her chest.

The sense of loss, that he can only feel intensely with one hand, bothers him for a moment. He forgets it, getting lost in watching her flush and then press her breasts into his hands.

She's right, about the logistics. They could fuck, right now, in this bathtub. He doesn't think he wants their first time to be in a bathtub.

Does she?

Or does she want something sensual and that connection they had earlier, where he felt more alive than he has in years.

He leans his chest forward and then kisses along her shoulder, her neck, and then up to her ear, moving his hand down to her waist, between her legs as she moves them apart to give him more access.

He slips a finger over her clit under the water, listening to her voice change pitch as she breathes out, and it feels like he gets even harder, pressed up against her.

The idea of making her come makes him unbearably aroused and sharpens his focus.

"I want to make you come." He says it into her ear low, trying to vibrate his words against the shell.

Nodding, she makes eager small sounds, like she's so tightly wound, that he doesn't think it will take much to put her over the edge.

The thrill of being able to give something like that to her makes him sit up a little straighter, gets her comfortable again, and then he slides a finger into her, and presses his lips against her jaw.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see her hand gripping the side of the tub, and she twists her neck so that their mouths meet again, while he fingers her to the sounds of splashing water.

Her body is pressing back against him, moving with the work of his fingers, and the friction is so sweet and conflicting. He wants to be inside of her, but he wants to make her come, hard.

"I want to give this to you. Please. Let me."

She lets go of the tub and wraps a hand around his nape, deepening the kiss before her mouth opens and she comes quietly, tensing in his embrace, holding her own breath and then she lets it out in a loud rush.

Her body goes liquid, the languid smile as she turns to her side and presses her face against his chest, wrapping her fingers around his arm as she hums.

"What about you?" she asks a second later.

"Uh," he replies slowly, looking down in between them. "Maybe we should take a shower instead?"

She laughs, and splashes some of the water at him.

He laughs back.


	3. Round 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Office sex.

It's not like he could just spend the entire day in her room.

That would've been too obvious.

And _nice_.

It's probably a bad idea for them to be sneaking around so close to recent events, too.

But it's fun?

Not at night, either.

He can't spend the night at hers, or the reverse, and they're both comfortable enough about this, and insecure enough about this, to both be okay with it and constantly check in with each other that it's still okay.

Or he might just need another excuse to see her today?

He stops by the office to discuss operations with her. Again.

No one has seemed to find this unusual, so far, which he accepts as a sign that people thought they were close, anyway.

And that they're both workaholics. It could be a combination of both.

When they were in that SSR closet that was helpfully out of the way last week, she did start talking about recent Watchdog activities.

And he was trying to concentrate on getting her off.

Now there's this big build up to them actually having sex. In a bed together. Like normal people.

Not that their lives would ever be normal, but they should probably institute a no-SHIELD talk rule, like Mack and Elena have. According to Daisy.

She's started wearing her hair a little bit differently, too. He thinks about how she always changes it when something significant has happened.

Not that he's very significant in the life of a superhero SHIELD Director that's Inhuman.

But the idea is nice.

He glances over at her to see her smiling at him, as he looks around the room and then smiles back.

"What?"

"I like those jeans."

He turns his butt towards her a little more, as she stops looking at the pad in her hands altogether and stares.

"Hey, eyes up here," he calls over his shoulder.

"I was thinking I might need some help when I'm headed to DC next," she chuckles, smacking the pad against his chest.

"What do you need?" he asks, taking it in hand. "We've got some backlog work to do. Still cleaning up the base after that mess with the robots."

"I'll be there for an overnight. Afternoon meetings both days."

He follows her eyes down to the pad and looks at it.

There's an image of a really nice hotel suite with a view and a comfortable-looking bed that could fit two normal-sized people at the same time.

"Oh."

"Are those jeans new?" she asks, walking away from him and going to sit in the chair behind the desk.

"No," he shakes his head. "Are you asking-" he points down at the pad, just wanting to be sure.

"I have your answer over here," she says, with a tilt of her head, and a polite smile.

Although he's instantly intrigued, the fact is, anyone could walk in here at any minute.

"Can I have my pad back?" she asks him, hand outstretched.

He walks dutifully over and hands it to her, as she takes it and fingers through the screens, until she finds the one that monitors the lanyards.

"This was totally not my idea," she shrugs. "But it does let me see where everyone is on the base."

She hands it back up to him, and he takes it and looks it over, nods at it for some reason, then chews on his lower lip, and glances over at her.

"Are you wanting-" he starts to ask.

"Yeah," she finishes.

"Here?"

"You can be in charge," she tells him in a teasing voice. "Just keep your eyes on the screen."

Her hands press him backwards until he bumps against the edge of her desk.

He'd be lying if he said he hasn't thought about this since they've started fooling around. It's just that he can't believe it might actually happen.

She pulls the zipper of his jeans down dramatically, to make the noise louder, and he swallows and has to keep his balance with one hand on the desk.

"Are you monitoring, Phil?" she asks, as he watches her undo his belt and then tug the jeans down his hips with his underwear.

"Yes," he replies and looks back at the pad. All the dots are very far away from the office at the moment.

The head of his cock disappears beneath her hair, with those different layers of highlights, and he wishes his other hand was free, because he wants to touch her so badly it hurts.

"Oh, Daisy."

She's slowly moving up and down on him, making every drop of blood in his body head straight to where her mouth is.

He feels a little dizzy, not used to being the center of attention like this.

"Phil."

She taps him on the wrist and he focuses again, looking at the dots on the pad.

"We're good," he gasps out, as she drags her thumb along the tip.

"How are you?" she grins up at him, her fingers wrapped around his hard on.

"I'm _very_ good," he says, and then groans as she sinks her head down on him again, he can feel her tongue curling along the underside. "I want to take you to that hotel. Do something nice for you."

"To me?"

"Yes. _Both_."

He starts to relax, feeling the intense warmth taking over, spreading through his body. He can feel her watching him, on the edge of his orgasm.

Then he glances at the pad one last time.

"Dots!" He starts to try to explain it to her, that someone is on their way here.

"Phil, it's fine," she says calmly, and then he sees stars behind his eyes, colors, and it's like everything just turned into the most beautiful galaxy of...

She gets to her feet and starts to zip him up as he slumps against the desk, with a contented smile on his face.

"Here," she says, taking the pad from him. "You do the belt.  And maybe...smile less.   _Sorry_."

He gives her a quick kiss, and then finishes tucking in his shirt properly.

"Just for the record," he tells her, with his voice very low. "You can use your powers on me _anytime_."

"I'll keep that in mind, Agent," she smirks, and then walks towards the door.


	4. Round 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daisy and Coulson stay in a hotel. Sort of.

"Can you believe that scumbag manager?"

Daisy is fuming and she has every right to be.

Their nice hotel stay has been absolutely ruined by several things.

One: The absolute lack of security and privacy for their guests, because the place is covered in paparazzi. Daisy it turns out, is very famous, so it's a problem.

Two: The Scumbag Manager. Who actually did use the word 'you' in conjunction with Inhumans when they brought up the first point.

Three: His damned flowers never showed up. See: Scumbag Manager.

She sits down on the edge of the bed, technically it's her room. Their rooms are adjoining, which is totally allowed when you're spies.

Daisy looks frustrated and like she hates her surroundings.

The room does indeed look just like the beautiful picture from the hotel website they'd checked out.

Unfortunately, it's now all colored with a xenophobic tint that won't wash out.

"This was supposed to be a great night for us," she says, looking defeated and reaching up for his hand. "I'm sorry."

"Daisy," he says, and comes to sit down next to her. "Don't apologize. Let's get out of here."

"We have meetings tomorrow, I have to prepare for them. We haven't had dinner."

Sure, they could book another room somewhere. But by the time they did the security checks and try to clear out, half the night will be gone.

He takes out his SAT phone and goes into the other room to make a call.

And then comes back in, pockets the phone and goes to her closet to bring out her overnight bag.

"Pack your things," he tells her.

She looks a little surprised, but she gets up off the bed and starts to do it anyway.

When he's all done gathering his own things, he helps her shoulder her bag, and they make their way down into first floor and sneak around past the lobby.

Checking his phone one more time, he gets the confirmation he needs, and then directs her through the kitchen, stopping to slip one of the chefs some money, as he hands over a few bags in exchange and gets Daisy to sign something for the man.

They keep going through to the back door, and they exit the delivery entrance to see a RV camper parked in the alley.

"What's this?" she asks, a smile coming over her face as he goes to grab the keys from inside where they're stashed in the ashtray.

"I called in a favor," he tells her, taking her bag and moving it inside. "Cherry Hill Park isn't far away. We already have a reservation."

She hops in and he drives, it's only a half hour away, but she rolls down the window, and turns on the radio on, flipping through the stations, then settles on some romantic 70s love song, and digs through the grocery bags.

"You had them put in those little snack cakes," she gushes, showing him the package briefly.

"Yes, and something nice for breakfast," he tells her as he drives. "The security here is pretty much non-existent," he explains. "But-"

"I feel totally safe with you, Phil," she assures him, and leans over to touch his hand.

"You're a superhero, Daisy. But, thanks."

They pull in and check into the park, it is a little busy this time of year, but he picked a spot up by the water, and hopefully they can get some privacy.

He pulls out plates and silverware from inside the RV kitchen, and starts to unpack the groceries to start dinner.

"I love this," she says, hugging him from behind. "So much better than that hotel."

He looks for a sad moment at the full size bed tucked up against the wall. "Yeah."

"It'll be cozy," she tells him, kissing the back of his neck, and going to open up her bags, laying out clothes for tomorrow to get the wrinkles out as much as possible.

Those flowers would've been nice, though.

She puts some music on the radio, playing low in the background and then walks towards him to take a bottle of wine out of the bag, twisting the cap off.

He hands her the plastic glasses, and she pours, and then they make a silent toast and drink.

"I love you," she says, so easily, like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world for her to say, and his heart wants to jump right out of his chest.

"Thank you," he tells her, a little overwhelmed. "I had this all planned. I wanted to give you flowers."

"You can have all the daisies you want."

She kisses him, suddenly, then passionately, and he remembers the reason they came here to begin with. He sets their cups down and moves them over to the bed, undressing as he goes, unbuttoning her shirt and trying not to fumble.

They fall into the bed laughing and half-clothed, and then slip out of the rest of their things, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

He thought he might be more nervous, but he's so in love with her, he only thinks that this day can end even more beautiful than how it began.

She pushes him down against the pillows, gently by his shoulders, and moves over on top of him. It makes him think about how all this began, when she tagged him there with a solid punch.

Daisy doesn't look nervous, either. She looks like she's glowing and in love.

Did he forget to tell her?

She lines up their bodies, and then starts to sink down on him, sighing with pleasure as he fills her, turning her face into his hand and kisses it as he caresses her.

"I love you."

Her eyes stare into his, the intensity in them, some fierceness like this is a thing to protect.  He understands. He hopes she sees it in his, too, when she looks into them.

Then she starts to move first, setting some rhythm between them, and then they move together, fingers intertwined and then their mouths. Like they're melting into each other, racing like one person towards the same finish.

It surprises him, that he can keep up with her. But it feels like she's pulling him along with her, like she's never letting go, and they come almost together.

Enough so that they're still in the same aftershocks of it for the seconds after, catching their breath and resting against each other's bodies.

They stay like that for awhile, looking at each other, touching. Until he hears her stomach rumble.

Then he gets up and walks into the kitchen to make them dinner.

She cracks open the window and looks through the curtains at the lake under the night sky.

The gentle noises mix in the with crackling sounds of food cooking in the pan, and she comes beside him to hand him his cup of wine.

They toast in silence.

 


End file.
